Steve sat, stupid with alcohol, watching the bartender make his rounds. The bartender passed him, ignoring him. No more whisky for me, I guess, Steve thought blandly.
Steve felt a shift as someone sat down beside him.
“Oh, hello Dr. Feynman,” he said.
“Hi, Steve,” said a sad voice. “How's it going?”
“Oh, you know. Seeking new possibilities, checking out every available opportunity,” Steve answered. Then he began to cry.
“Please don't,” said Dr. Feynman. His voice was gentle. “I'm trying to work it out for you.”
“Even if you do, I'll have to start all over again next Fall.” Steve shook his head.
“Better that than this.” Steve could hear the note of disgust in Feynman's voice. The bartender walked over and Dr. Feynman ordered a beer.
“Anyone find them yet?” Steve asked.
Steve shook his head and wiped away more tears.
"Hey, but this is a small campus," Feynman told him. "How far can a couple of genetically mutated, disease-carrying hens get?"
"Uh oh," the bartender said, handing Feynman his beer. He turned toward the bar and shouted, "Lori-Ann! Check the till, would you? How many people had the chicken special?"
Opening: Stacy.....Continuation: Anon.